May was nervous sharing this type of chapter in her journey. She tended to minimize situations in her life but was nervous that the stranger encounter would appear over exaggerated to the ones she loved or that they would be genuinely upset about the circumstances. She had been enlightened by the Father and she hoped they may be awakened in some way too.
May was a person to them, she was tangible. Some knew her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her smile. Some knew her pranks that, humorously, never seemed to go right. Others knew her through conversations or interactions they had along the way regardless of how shallow or deep. May had a voice. What about their voice? What about the women who were raped on their way to get water? What about the women whose homes were just burned down by the rebels? What about the orphans whose parents were murdered by the rebels? She thought, when was the last time she or any of those who knew her journey got angry for them…they have a voice too…
May’s voice quivered to a similar rhythm of her hands trembling against the Smith’s wooden table while she explained the events of Tuesday afternoon. A piece of her dignity had been ripped from her and she had lost her sense of security. The experience resembled a deep flesh wound, hurting more as the adrenaline dwindled and the shock wore off. The drive was a knife digging into her skin, but the pain felt deeper in the hours that followed when the bruising fear of traveling alone and the tenderness of shaken faith set in around the puncture.
The incident changed her. She did not want to admit, even to herself that it changed her, but she knew it did. The days following the incident, May found it hard to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. The men of the Sandbox were no longer individuals to her and each one of them resembled the disgusting man who jumped into her rickshaw, put his arm around her, and asked her obscene questions until she finally could escape. They were the despicable driver who knew the entire plan and would not listen to her demands to end the excursion.
May had considered situations like these before she left the states. She knew they were possible; however, considering the future and actually living a consideration were different from each other. Did she truly trust Him with her whole heart? Did she truly believe He could take “bad” moments and use them for his glory? May wondered how she could bring Him glory through this circumstance. It would be absurd to think the only events that could bring glory to the Father were the ones the world deemed “good”. As the days passed and a new week approached May spent much of her time asking Him to reveal the “good” from this encounter and for a deeper faith that she could bring Him glory through it.
During the hours of fear and sleepless nights May clenched His book of promises and searched it for answers. She played, and replayed, the situation over in her mind as she thought back to the moments in the rickshaw. She could see the battle being fought between good and evil, she could feel it. She saw the moments when the evil one was attacking and she saw her Father with a sword and a shield protecting her, and she felt Him holding her right hand. She had never considered the different roles He had in her life. This was the first time she realized and believed that He was her warrior. The Father was her warrior and she was thankful that He proved mighty in battle.
She began to sleep again, she slept covered in the promise that he was her warrior and that he would meet all of her needs. The following morning she awoke to the Father questioning her…Do you trust me, no May do you trust me? Do you believe I love you wider then you can reach wide, higher then you can see high, and deeper then you can feel deep? I love you more. Do you consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing me as your Father, not some things May, everything?
May read more from the book and she felt more in her heart…I did not tell you to rejoice on just the easy days May, I told you to rejoice always. Get up and rejoice in me, not because I saved you from the hands of this present evil but because I am your Father eternal and because I gave my Son for you – I gave him for you in the moments that do not hurt and for you in the moments that do. Get up and sing praises to me, rejoice in me. I told you to give thanks in ALL circumstances. You have not thanked me for this, thank me. I told you to consider it a pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds. Consider it a pure joy. Love me and know that I love you and find joy in this trial, May. I want to prove you genuine – your faith is of greater worth then gold and I want to prove you genuine, let me.
Her heart found peace in this conversation with the Father and she lifted Him high, thankful for His mercy and grace. She was nervous sharing this type of chapter in her journey with the ones she loved because she knew some of them would be genuinely upset about the circumstances. She knew she would share the story and she hoped they would see the deeper meaning behind it in their lives. May was a person to them, she was tangible. Some knew her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her smile. Some knew her pranks that, humorously, never seemed to go right. Others knew her through conversations or interactions they had along the way regardless of how shallow or deep. May had a voice. What about their voice? What about the women who were raped on their way to get water? What about the women whose homes were just burned down by the rebels? What about the orphans whose parents were murdered by the rebels? She thought, when was the last time she or any of those who knew her journey got angry for them…they have a voice too. Her five minutes of fear was nothing compared to the life of fear these women live.
Whose interests are you looking out for? Look out for the interests of others. You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes – there is not enough time to dwell on this and to overanalyze this – I want your heart completely and soon enough you will dwell in my house- do not waste the time I have given you dwelling on the trials you have-for they to are a mist within the mist and are not worth more thought then the moments of sheer joy and happiness I give you-do not act like they are.
The following Tuesday most everything was back to normal for May in the Sandbox. The Father’s healing had restored May’s faith and she thanked Him.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Chapter 16 "The Stranger"
It was a blissful day, clouds draped against the blue sky. May and Red had successfully completed another day of language study, and were encouraged by an outing with their language helper. They went to the cheapest vegetable stand in town and stacked up on fresh potatoes, tomatoes, and cucumbers. May was elated that she would soon be in her comfy apartment where she could shower and rest after the long morning. Red was looking forward to teaching the Smith children the difference between adjectives and adverbs, as she regularly taught them English on Tuesdays.
The sisters parted for the afternoon, or at least that is what they thought they were doing. They divided the small bills amongst each other in order that neither sister would have a hassle with the rickshaw driver over the correct change. May entered on the right side of her rickshaw, leaving Red talking to a man standing on the left side. May’s driver started the rickshaw, the sound of the engine signaling the man talking to Red to jump in the back with May. The driver pressed the gas and before May could even decipher what was happening or why this stranger had jumped into the back of her rickshaw, they had taken off down the road leaving Red in a daze of dust and confusion.
May shimmied as close to the right side of the rickshaw as she could. Her right hip and shoulder pressed into the metal side. In decent English, the stranger told May he spoke French, English, and Arabic. She avoided eye contact and simply said, “that is good”. The driver asked May where she was going. May found this question to be odd as she had already told him the street name before she got into the rickshaw. She repeated the answer.
The stranger asked May where she was from. May, avoiding eye contact and trying to be as short as possible, answered, “America”. The stranger told May she was beautiful. May knew this was not a good situation and she turned as far to the right as possible, squeezing her bag of vegetables tighter. The stranger asked May if she lived with anyone and if there was anyone at her house right now. May knew she was in trouble and waves of helplessness began to wash over her as there was no one to turn to for help. She contemplated not saying anything but wondered if that would upset the stranger. She decided stating she had roommates waiting for her to get home would stop the stranger from trying anything.
Fear began to overwhelm her because she knew neither of the sisters were home and she did not want the stranger to know where she lived. May knew if the driver did take her home she would be in serious trouble. Remain calm, think of what to do next, remain calm, now is not the time to panic, remain calm May, remain calm…she repeated to herself.
It seemed like the ride was faster then any other rickshaw ride she had been in, she felt like she was in the buggy of a roller coaster wishing she could get off before she was overwhelmed with fear. Vegetables stands and buildings were passing by her quickly. She saw the bright orange and blue building a hundred yards in front of her approaching rapidly. The stranger continued telling her she was beautiful as he slid closer to her. She became nauseous. You can jump out May, you can jump out of this rickshaw and it will not hurt that bad.
She knew if she passed the orange and blue building she would have no other choice but to go home or be taken to somewhere she did not want to go. The right hand turn at the blue and orange building, opened the opportunity for her to go to her boss’s house and she knew Red would be taking that route so if she jumped Red would see her.
“Hena yameen (turn right here).” May loudly told the driver. “Hena yameen, hena yameen, hena yameen… right here, right here, right here.” The driver pretended not to hear her. May slapped him hard on his arm and screamed at him to turn right, she could not think of the word for “stop”. The stranger quickly said something to the driver in Arabic and he turned right, barely missing the turn and just barely avoiding the car turning left. That was the moment May understood she was by herself against a team and they had their plan from the beginning. Three minutes May, three minutes. You will be there in three minutes and you will get through this, if you get closer to Mr. Smith’s house you will have a better shot at safety.
The stranger moved his body up against the right side of May’s body. She was already pressed hard against the side of the rickshaw she could not move over anymore. The stranger put his arm around May. He began speaking obscenities to her. She could do nothing. She could not turn any further away. You will get through this May, you will get through this but you must do something right now before he touches you, you must act. You have got to do something right now. Jump or say something or scream or hit him or hit the driver. Do something!
She began to talk to him calmly and without looking at him. All she could muster was to tell him he spoke English well. May asked him how he had learned the language. He answered her and then continued telling her things he wanted to do to her. The next turn was approaching quickly. “yameen hena” she yelled at the driver. He was not going to stop. She had one foot out of the rickshaw and was ready to do a jump and role. She smacked the driver again and yelled “hena yameen” he skidded and turned. Is this really happening? The stranger pulled his arm tighter and she said no, no, no. You must jump out – you must or you will regret it later. Just jump – you will be okay.
“STOP,” she yelled at the driver. “Stop here, stop now, HENA!” May jumped as the driver began to slow down. She was in shock, still hugging the vegetables, she ran to her boss’s doorbell and rang it thirteen consecutive times, afraid the stranger was following her. Red’s rickshaw pulled up a minute later. May continued ringing the bell. McCaine opened the door. The sisters entered and closed the metal door. The clang of metal door hitting the lock rang safety to May’s ears.
The sisters parted for the afternoon, or at least that is what they thought they were doing. They divided the small bills amongst each other in order that neither sister would have a hassle with the rickshaw driver over the correct change. May entered on the right side of her rickshaw, leaving Red talking to a man standing on the left side. May’s driver started the rickshaw, the sound of the engine signaling the man talking to Red to jump in the back with May. The driver pressed the gas and before May could even decipher what was happening or why this stranger had jumped into the back of her rickshaw, they had taken off down the road leaving Red in a daze of dust and confusion.
May shimmied as close to the right side of the rickshaw as she could. Her right hip and shoulder pressed into the metal side. In decent English, the stranger told May he spoke French, English, and Arabic. She avoided eye contact and simply said, “that is good”. The driver asked May where she was going. May found this question to be odd as she had already told him the street name before she got into the rickshaw. She repeated the answer.
The stranger asked May where she was from. May, avoiding eye contact and trying to be as short as possible, answered, “America”. The stranger told May she was beautiful. May knew this was not a good situation and she turned as far to the right as possible, squeezing her bag of vegetables tighter. The stranger asked May if she lived with anyone and if there was anyone at her house right now. May knew she was in trouble and waves of helplessness began to wash over her as there was no one to turn to for help. She contemplated not saying anything but wondered if that would upset the stranger. She decided stating she had roommates waiting for her to get home would stop the stranger from trying anything.
Fear began to overwhelm her because she knew neither of the sisters were home and she did not want the stranger to know where she lived. May knew if the driver did take her home she would be in serious trouble. Remain calm, think of what to do next, remain calm, now is not the time to panic, remain calm May, remain calm…she repeated to herself.
It seemed like the ride was faster then any other rickshaw ride she had been in, she felt like she was in the buggy of a roller coaster wishing she could get off before she was overwhelmed with fear. Vegetables stands and buildings were passing by her quickly. She saw the bright orange and blue building a hundred yards in front of her approaching rapidly. The stranger continued telling her she was beautiful as he slid closer to her. She became nauseous. You can jump out May, you can jump out of this rickshaw and it will not hurt that bad.
She knew if she passed the orange and blue building she would have no other choice but to go home or be taken to somewhere she did not want to go. The right hand turn at the blue and orange building, opened the opportunity for her to go to her boss’s house and she knew Red would be taking that route so if she jumped Red would see her.
“Hena yameen (turn right here).” May loudly told the driver. “Hena yameen, hena yameen, hena yameen… right here, right here, right here.” The driver pretended not to hear her. May slapped him hard on his arm and screamed at him to turn right, she could not think of the word for “stop”. The stranger quickly said something to the driver in Arabic and he turned right, barely missing the turn and just barely avoiding the car turning left. That was the moment May understood she was by herself against a team and they had their plan from the beginning. Three minutes May, three minutes. You will be there in three minutes and you will get through this, if you get closer to Mr. Smith’s house you will have a better shot at safety.
The stranger moved his body up against the right side of May’s body. She was already pressed hard against the side of the rickshaw she could not move over anymore. The stranger put his arm around May. He began speaking obscenities to her. She could do nothing. She could not turn any further away. You will get through this May, you will get through this but you must do something right now before he touches you, you must act. You have got to do something right now. Jump or say something or scream or hit him or hit the driver. Do something!
She began to talk to him calmly and without looking at him. All she could muster was to tell him he spoke English well. May asked him how he had learned the language. He answered her and then continued telling her things he wanted to do to her. The next turn was approaching quickly. “yameen hena” she yelled at the driver. He was not going to stop. She had one foot out of the rickshaw and was ready to do a jump and role. She smacked the driver again and yelled “hena yameen” he skidded and turned. Is this really happening? The stranger pulled his arm tighter and she said no, no, no. You must jump out – you must or you will regret it later. Just jump – you will be okay.
“STOP,” she yelled at the driver. “Stop here, stop now, HENA!” May jumped as the driver began to slow down. She was in shock, still hugging the vegetables, she ran to her boss’s doorbell and rang it thirteen consecutive times, afraid the stranger was following her. Red’s rickshaw pulled up a minute later. May continued ringing the bell. McCaine opened the door. The sisters entered and closed the metal door. The clang of metal door hitting the lock rang safety to May’s ears.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Chapter 15 "Revenge of the Red, Brown, and Green Stripes"
It was a typical Thursday afternoon for the sisters. They had finished three hours of language study and were on their way out for two more hours with Jamela. McCaine wrapped her pink tobe around her and secured the bottom end tightly under her armpit. Red wore May’s, not-so-white-anymore, skirt and a black blouse with a black wrap. May proudly displayed her sewn skirt and matching red blouse. Jamila wore a jean skirt and black top that had suffered an attack from the “Bedazzler”, her head covered by a light green covering. The sisters and Jamela walked, in style, to the end of their road and waved for an amjad (mini van).
The afternoon escaped them quickly as they practiced vocabulary at the local market and exchanged money with venders and cashiers. Jamela haggled with an amjad driver for a price the sisters found reasonable for the short journey back to Jamela’s house. Once Jamela had won the haggle war, the group entered the amjad and opened all the windows. The wind breathed hot air on them from all sides and May held down the rambunctious skirt.
The driver claimed he had no change for the sister’s bill. May, forgetting she had change, asked Jamela to make a deal with him to bring them to their house for a round trip total of 9 dinar. The driver agreed. They hugged Jamela goodbye and thanked her for her help that afternoon.
Red took the front seat, May and McCaine shared the back. The driver continued his deceitful ways by taking them the long route, covering as much dirt road as possible on the trip. Each sister knew exactly what he was doing and sat quietly asking The Father for patience. A quarter mile from their house stood two women waving to the driver for a ride. He pulled over and told the sisters to get out of the amjad. Red had enough of his tactics, boldly scolded him and informed him, he would finish his job.
May could see the driver’s expression in the mirror. She could not tell if he found Red humorous or offensive. She did know that the driver would attempt to rip them off again and she was not going to have that. She looked at McCaine and announced none of them would exit the amjad until the driver gave them the right change. May’s prediction proved right. The amjad wobbled its’ way down the pot hole infested road and stopped at their gate. He refused to give the sisters their change. Red continued repeating, “ma kways” and grabbed their bill back from his hands. Neither May nor McCaine knew quite what to think for they had never seen Red so forceful but were happy for her boldness. May fumbled around her purse trying to find more change. The driver became irate and ordered the sisters out of his vehicle. Red and McCaine exited successfully. May did not.
She gave the money to the driver, he reached over just as she placed her left foot on the ground to accompany her right foot on the hot sand, and slammed the door shut. He pushed the gas, murmuring things May could not understand, and began to drive away. May suddenly felt paralyzed. The feeling, familiar to the skirt’s last rebellion, she knew she was stuck yet again. As fate would have it the striped skirt decided to lag behind her legs and was stuck in the door of the moving amjad.
At the precise moment, when the force of the vehicle moving in the opposite direction of her body would either drag her along or rip the skirt off her body, she was freed. McCaine stammered for words and thought to herself, why do these moments seem to always entangle May? She waited for May’s reaction before she reacted. Thankful the amjad released its’ grip on the stripes, she let out a full belly laugh. May and McCaine began hysterics as May bent down to pick up the limb that was torn from the skirt.
Red, still annoyed, stopped fiddling with the gate door and turned around to see the missing appendage of May’s skirt waving to her from the door of the amjad. She looked at May, who had picked up the torn strip and wrapped it around her head as a cute, or so she thought, bandana. Red, McCaine, and May sat down on the broken concrete sidewalk and laughed until tears flowed from each of their eyes. The amjad driver vanished in the dust and the tattered skirt rest peacefully on May’s legs and the ground.
The afternoon escaped them quickly as they practiced vocabulary at the local market and exchanged money with venders and cashiers. Jamela haggled with an amjad driver for a price the sisters found reasonable for the short journey back to Jamela’s house. Once Jamela had won the haggle war, the group entered the amjad and opened all the windows. The wind breathed hot air on them from all sides and May held down the rambunctious skirt.
The driver claimed he had no change for the sister’s bill. May, forgetting she had change, asked Jamela to make a deal with him to bring them to their house for a round trip total of 9 dinar. The driver agreed. They hugged Jamela goodbye and thanked her for her help that afternoon.
Red took the front seat, May and McCaine shared the back. The driver continued his deceitful ways by taking them the long route, covering as much dirt road as possible on the trip. Each sister knew exactly what he was doing and sat quietly asking The Father for patience. A quarter mile from their house stood two women waving to the driver for a ride. He pulled over and told the sisters to get out of the amjad. Red had enough of his tactics, boldly scolded him and informed him, he would finish his job.
May could see the driver’s expression in the mirror. She could not tell if he found Red humorous or offensive. She did know that the driver would attempt to rip them off again and she was not going to have that. She looked at McCaine and announced none of them would exit the amjad until the driver gave them the right change. May’s prediction proved right. The amjad wobbled its’ way down the pot hole infested road and stopped at their gate. He refused to give the sisters their change. Red continued repeating, “ma kways” and grabbed their bill back from his hands. Neither May nor McCaine knew quite what to think for they had never seen Red so forceful but were happy for her boldness. May fumbled around her purse trying to find more change. The driver became irate and ordered the sisters out of his vehicle. Red and McCaine exited successfully. May did not.
She gave the money to the driver, he reached over just as she placed her left foot on the ground to accompany her right foot on the hot sand, and slammed the door shut. He pushed the gas, murmuring things May could not understand, and began to drive away. May suddenly felt paralyzed. The feeling, familiar to the skirt’s last rebellion, she knew she was stuck yet again. As fate would have it the striped skirt decided to lag behind her legs and was stuck in the door of the moving amjad.
At the precise moment, when the force of the vehicle moving in the opposite direction of her body would either drag her along or rip the skirt off her body, she was freed. McCaine stammered for words and thought to herself, why do these moments seem to always entangle May? She waited for May’s reaction before she reacted. Thankful the amjad released its’ grip on the stripes, she let out a full belly laugh. May and McCaine began hysterics as May bent down to pick up the limb that was torn from the skirt.
Red, still annoyed, stopped fiddling with the gate door and turned around to see the missing appendage of May’s skirt waving to her from the door of the amjad. She looked at May, who had picked up the torn strip and wrapped it around her head as a cute, or so she thought, bandana. Red, McCaine, and May sat down on the broken concrete sidewalk and laughed until tears flowed from each of their eyes. The amjad driver vanished in the dust and the tattered skirt rest peacefully on May’s legs and the ground.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Chapter 14 "Humor in the Break or Make Moments"
May and Red were exhausted as the clock’s small right hand slowly reached out to the three and its’ faster left hand brushed up against the last gray slash of the two o’clock hour. The sisters slightly dreaded the upcoming hours when they would spend the rest of the humid afternoon learning the streets of the capital with their language helper, Jamela. They had been in The Sandbox for less then two months and had not picked up more then a few phrases and a handful of vocabulary. Jamela spoke only Arabic and the sisters found it difficult to understand anything deeper then simple greetings. As one may assume, the language barrier alone was enough to bring frustration or humor to any given circumstance, depending on the attitude of its’ subject.
The sisters and Jamela crammed into a rickshaw, a vehicle equivalent to half a car and motorcycle entwined to make a buggy on wheels. May and Red tucked their skirts between their legs in order to protect their threads from the wheels of the rickshaw. They exited the rickshaw and waved down a bus. The bus stopped to the snapping of their fingers, five minutes after it rolled away from the side of the road. They walked in a single file line, Jamela in front, Red in the middle, and May in the back. While they walked, Jamela explained the idea of a red light meaning “stop” and a green light meaning “go”. May smiled and thanked Jamela for the insightful lesson.
May inwardly recited the vocabulary words for fruit and vegetables as they picked up the pace. They crossed numerous roads and intersections before the intersection at which the light gray car was stopped, waiting for the red light to change in order that it may continue its’ journey. As the pace became brisk, Jamela could be seen slightly turning her head to see the sisters listening intently, with fake comprehending nods, for they knew nothing of what she was saying.
May’s skirt had a different agenda that day and decided it would rather be wrapped around the car she was passing then her legs. It ever so sneakily grabbed the corner of the license plate as she continued walking. May noticed the next few steps more challenging and soon she found she could not place her left foot in front of her right foot. She glanced up at the stop light that had just turned green and then down at her skirt, which refused to impart from the license plate. She reached down to the license plate and began to fight for her skirt back as the cars around her began to move. She made eye contact with the driver of the license plate’s car and noticed he was perplexed but did not care that she remained standing in front of his car. In a small panic and with a big huff, she grabbed her skirt mid length and yanked it free from the nemesis license plate to quickly put an end to the tug-o-war.
May turned to the forefront and noticed both Red and Jamela ten feet in front of her, on the sidewalk, glaring at the situation with baffled expressions on their faces. All they knew was May had slowed the pace and somehow managed to put a gaping hole in her skirt, her white leg glaring out from the red, brown and green striped cotton.
May returned home and stitched up the skirt, with a little bit of resentment towards it for causing her such an awkward encouter in the middle of the city. She laughed, thinking the skirt had put up a good battle but she still had won and had ownership. Little did she know the skirt had a few more tricks up its’ sleeve…
The sisters and Jamela crammed into a rickshaw, a vehicle equivalent to half a car and motorcycle entwined to make a buggy on wheels. May and Red tucked their skirts between their legs in order to protect their threads from the wheels of the rickshaw. They exited the rickshaw and waved down a bus. The bus stopped to the snapping of their fingers, five minutes after it rolled away from the side of the road. They walked in a single file line, Jamela in front, Red in the middle, and May in the back. While they walked, Jamela explained the idea of a red light meaning “stop” and a green light meaning “go”. May smiled and thanked Jamela for the insightful lesson.
May inwardly recited the vocabulary words for fruit and vegetables as they picked up the pace. They crossed numerous roads and intersections before the intersection at which the light gray car was stopped, waiting for the red light to change in order that it may continue its’ journey. As the pace became brisk, Jamela could be seen slightly turning her head to see the sisters listening intently, with fake comprehending nods, for they knew nothing of what she was saying.
May’s skirt had a different agenda that day and decided it would rather be wrapped around the car she was passing then her legs. It ever so sneakily grabbed the corner of the license plate as she continued walking. May noticed the next few steps more challenging and soon she found she could not place her left foot in front of her right foot. She glanced up at the stop light that had just turned green and then down at her skirt, which refused to impart from the license plate. She reached down to the license plate and began to fight for her skirt back as the cars around her began to move. She made eye contact with the driver of the license plate’s car and noticed he was perplexed but did not care that she remained standing in front of his car. In a small panic and with a big huff, she grabbed her skirt mid length and yanked it free from the nemesis license plate to quickly put an end to the tug-o-war.
May turned to the forefront and noticed both Red and Jamela ten feet in front of her, on the sidewalk, glaring at the situation with baffled expressions on their faces. All they knew was May had slowed the pace and somehow managed to put a gaping hole in her skirt, her white leg glaring out from the red, brown and green striped cotton.
May returned home and stitched up the skirt, with a little bit of resentment towards it for causing her such an awkward encouter in the middle of the city. She laughed, thinking the skirt had put up a good battle but she still had won and had ownership. Little did she know the skirt had a few more tricks up its’ sleeve…
Friday, May 25, 2007
Chapter 13 "At First Glance"
The days began to run into each other the second month the sisters were in the Sandbox. The hours began to blend together. Days of the week no longer had individual names but rather strung together and became one long day only being separated by the light switch in the sky. The dust from the arrival month had settled and the sisters had gotten into a routine, which none of them minded.
Part of May’s and Red’s routine involved workouts in the yellow room where the sisters could be seen lifting weights to random music mixes and jumping over invisible lines to keep beat with May’s, long forgotten, basketball agility routine. May, who swore she would never do another basketball workout again after the hundreds she did in college, thought if only her coaches could see her now. A quick wave of homesickness broke over her as she remembered some of her favorite days consisted of the cooler mornings in Florida. The ones that aloud her to arise early, place her ipod around her neck, and jog the slightly hilly path, while inhaling the citrus aroma on the service road of her old university.
May’s thoughts quickly subsided as she went to the kitchen for a drink between sets of lounges. She glanced out the rusty brown barred window and saw the little girl below, the same one that slept on the metal frames. On this day the shirtless little girl played in, what at first glance seemed to be, a fort her family had built. She danced under a cardboard ceiling held up by thicker sheets of cardboard. May saw through the gapping hole in the front side, the side that could be opened by a severely dented refrigerator door whose broken handle murmured tinks to the rhythm of the cars passing along the road.
May was curious to see what else the little girl was playing with on the soil floor. Did she have a companion dolly friend? A stuffed animal bear? Was the fort her secret place during the hiding part of Hide and Seek? May, still out of breath, took another sip of water and looked a little closer. The space contained by cardboard was not part of any game for the little girl’s amusement. It was a ten foot by ten foot bedroom the family had made. The cushion-less metal chair held up the right side of the cardboard and the family’s wardrobe hang over the back wall on the barbwire fence. It appeared the little girl was picking handfuls of loose dirt off the ground in her room. After a few minutes May understood the little girl was cleaning her room, the only room in the garbage field. Her mother sat outside the cardboard walls, ringing out the laundry she had pulled from the foggy water in the plastic basin that sat to the left of her. May contemplated, sometimes things were easier to accept at first glance.
Part of May’s and Red’s routine involved workouts in the yellow room where the sisters could be seen lifting weights to random music mixes and jumping over invisible lines to keep beat with May’s, long forgotten, basketball agility routine. May, who swore she would never do another basketball workout again after the hundreds she did in college, thought if only her coaches could see her now. A quick wave of homesickness broke over her as she remembered some of her favorite days consisted of the cooler mornings in Florida. The ones that aloud her to arise early, place her ipod around her neck, and jog the slightly hilly path, while inhaling the citrus aroma on the service road of her old university.
May’s thoughts quickly subsided as she went to the kitchen for a drink between sets of lounges. She glanced out the rusty brown barred window and saw the little girl below, the same one that slept on the metal frames. On this day the shirtless little girl played in, what at first glance seemed to be, a fort her family had built. She danced under a cardboard ceiling held up by thicker sheets of cardboard. May saw through the gapping hole in the front side, the side that could be opened by a severely dented refrigerator door whose broken handle murmured tinks to the rhythm of the cars passing along the road.
May was curious to see what else the little girl was playing with on the soil floor. Did she have a companion dolly friend? A stuffed animal bear? Was the fort her secret place during the hiding part of Hide and Seek? May, still out of breath, took another sip of water and looked a little closer. The space contained by cardboard was not part of any game for the little girl’s amusement. It was a ten foot by ten foot bedroom the family had made. The cushion-less metal chair held up the right side of the cardboard and the family’s wardrobe hang over the back wall on the barbwire fence. It appeared the little girl was picking handfuls of loose dirt off the ground in her room. After a few minutes May understood the little girl was cleaning her room, the only room in the garbage field. Her mother sat outside the cardboard walls, ringing out the laundry she had pulled from the foggy water in the plastic basin that sat to the left of her. May contemplated, sometimes things were easier to accept at first glance.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Chapter 12 "Holiday in Africa" -dedictated to Sharon and Libbo
While the sisters brought a small taste of Christmas to the brothers in March during their time at the Centre; little did they know, Santa’s Elves would be manifested in the brothers as they arrived to the field with two bulky suitcases packed from McCaine’s and Red’s parents. Frosty snow and cold wind were absent during this Christmas in May; however, a light brown dust masked the ground, while stale, warm, air drenched the sisters as they gathered in the freshly painted, light blue, room of their apartment.
The suitcases resembled an ensemble of silver and red presents enclosed beneath sparkling green and blue ribbon with shimmery bows to accent the decorative décor. The dark nylon material, clenched together by shiny silver teeth, held stocking stuffers and gifts from the North Pole (or in this case Virginia and North Carolina). Beneath the wrapping lay spices, seasoning, pots, pans, oven-mits, socks, shirts, cards, and books.
The furry blue and pink bathroom rugs would hear laughter echoing between the sink and tub from the maccorni and cheese making endeavors that eventually would take place in the lively lime green kitchen. The new pots and pans eagerly awaited the salty taste to be brought to them by Mrs. Dash seasoning and her side kicks. The shirts anxiously awaited the experiences they would encounter and the smells that would engulf them. The socks anticipated clean lotion wrapped feet and wondered where they would be led and if they would persevere the journey. Both the shirt and socks knew they could only handle so many lashings from the new washer and cheap African detergent, but they were up for the adventures that would leave them tumbling in suds.
The sisters giggled as they rummaged through the sweet gifts that arrived on a random Thursday six months before the authentic Chr*stm*s holiday. They were thankful the Father never was too early or too late but always right on time. They were grateful that He always supplied what they needed, that He always supplied more then what they needed. When the unwrapping was over and the new gifts placed in there proper places, the Sisters eyes grew heavy and they fell comfortably asleep with thankful hearts and appreciative thoughts for the kind loved ones He provided for support and encouragement in their lives…for secret Santa’s workshops in North Carolina and Virginia and for the little elves bearing the gifts.
The suitcases resembled an ensemble of silver and red presents enclosed beneath sparkling green and blue ribbon with shimmery bows to accent the decorative décor. The dark nylon material, clenched together by shiny silver teeth, held stocking stuffers and gifts from the North Pole (or in this case Virginia and North Carolina). Beneath the wrapping lay spices, seasoning, pots, pans, oven-mits, socks, shirts, cards, and books.
The furry blue and pink bathroom rugs would hear laughter echoing between the sink and tub from the maccorni and cheese making endeavors that eventually would take place in the lively lime green kitchen. The new pots and pans eagerly awaited the salty taste to be brought to them by Mrs. Dash seasoning and her side kicks. The shirts anxiously awaited the experiences they would encounter and the smells that would engulf them. The socks anticipated clean lotion wrapped feet and wondered where they would be led and if they would persevere the journey. Both the shirt and socks knew they could only handle so many lashings from the new washer and cheap African detergent, but they were up for the adventures that would leave them tumbling in suds.
The sisters giggled as they rummaged through the sweet gifts that arrived on a random Thursday six months before the authentic Chr*stm*s holiday. They were thankful the Father never was too early or too late but always right on time. They were grateful that He always supplied what they needed, that He always supplied more then what they needed. When the unwrapping was over and the new gifts placed in there proper places, the Sisters eyes grew heavy and they fell comfortably asleep with thankful hearts and appreciative thoughts for the kind loved ones He provided for support and encouragement in their lives…for secret Santa’s workshops in North Carolina and Virginia and for the little elves bearing the gifts.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Chapter 11 "Girls will be Girls"
The sisters would look back on the apartment renovation days with thankfulness for the time it gave them to spend together. Gathered in May’s pink air-conditioned room, with the aroma of fresh paint and the worker’s cigarettes, the sisters jammed out to Kelly Clarkson’s, “Since You’ve been Gone” and “Just Walk Away”. Their toes gently tapped the new, clean, white tiles as their arms whirled in the cool air. Or the other days spent in Red’s fluorescent yellow room, reading the masterpieces of C.S. Lewis, and watching Sense and Sensibility and other classics—all the while knowing the workmen busily painted the kitchen the same green of Easter grass and McCain’s room the lightest shade of blue.
There was much time to relax and catch up on sleep those first days in their apartment. The surplus of down time was apparent the day May and Red decided to choreograph a dance to TLC’s, “Scrubs” song. They briskly waved their index fingers right to left in front of their hearts, as they sang “I don’t want no” and pretended to mop (hence “scrub”) the floor as they symbolically rejected all the scrubs of the world. If the walls had eyes, surely they would have been amused by the dancing and laughter their space contained.
May flashed back to the weeks before she had left. She sincerely missed her sweet friend, Jenn D., as she remembered fondly the jam out sessions in, Altty (her recently sold, red Nissan Altima). She wondered if Jenn D. was flapping her arms, as if she were a bird, to Bette Middler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings” somewhere amidst the orange groves of Florida. She missed deep conversation and lighthearted singing while passing the fake microphone back and forth with Jenn D. in Altty. She paused for a moment and lifted up whispers of thanks to the Father for her benevolent, selfless, sister in the states and for entertaining memories that were not forgotten.
As the mist of May’s sweet memories with Jenn D. began to dissipate, naturally she felt it necessary to serenade McCaine and Red with Bette Middler’s, “The Rose”. The sisters laughed and recorded May’s entirely out of tune and off beat solo. They hoped to send it to Jane, who they always thought of during the soon to be common, “girls will be girls”, moments.
There was much time to relax and catch up on sleep those first days in their apartment. The surplus of down time was apparent the day May and Red decided to choreograph a dance to TLC’s, “Scrubs” song. They briskly waved their index fingers right to left in front of their hearts, as they sang “I don’t want no” and pretended to mop (hence “scrub”) the floor as they symbolically rejected all the scrubs of the world. If the walls had eyes, surely they would have been amused by the dancing and laughter their space contained.
May flashed back to the weeks before she had left. She sincerely missed her sweet friend, Jenn D., as she remembered fondly the jam out sessions in, Altty (her recently sold, red Nissan Altima). She wondered if Jenn D. was flapping her arms, as if she were a bird, to Bette Middler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings” somewhere amidst the orange groves of Florida. She missed deep conversation and lighthearted singing while passing the fake microphone back and forth with Jenn D. in Altty. She paused for a moment and lifted up whispers of thanks to the Father for her benevolent, selfless, sister in the states and for entertaining memories that were not forgotten.
As the mist of May’s sweet memories with Jenn D. began to dissipate, naturally she felt it necessary to serenade McCaine and Red with Bette Middler’s, “The Rose”. The sisters laughed and recorded May’s entirely out of tune and off beat solo. They hoped to send it to Jane, who they always thought of during the soon to be common, “girls will be girls”, moments.
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